


Not Now (Original)

by notnow



Category: Blink-182
Genre: Angst, Anxiety Disorder, Child Abuse (Physical), Depression, Disturbing Themes, Drug/Alchohol Abuse, F/M, Fantasy (Aliens), Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, PTSD, Physical Abuse, Suicidal Ideaton, Suicide Attempt, The Usual Angst Shit, Unfinished, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-12-18
Updated: 2011-12-26
Packaged: 2018-03-14 16:36:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 19,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3417827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notnow/pseuds/notnow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Original Summary- January 25, 2005 is the date Tom Delonge, unable to hold the words back much longer, plans to confess love to his best friend. January 25, 2005 is the date Mark Hoppus's life completely unravels as his best friend screams words of hatred and walks out of his life. January 25, 2005, is the date things spiral horribly out of control.</p><p>January 25, 2005, is the date Tom Delonge gets abducted by aliens. </p><p>A universe where there are no wives, no kids, and no BCR.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Never (Tom's P.O.V)

**Author's Note:**

> It's well known that I no longer have the energy or will to finish this fic, which breaks my heart deeply. I've decided to upload this to ao3 for numerous reasons, the most obvious being that it is a phenomenal host for fics, and there is a chance my story may reach more users here. Who knows. There is also the reason that, eventually, I hope to rewrite the entirety of Not Now, so that I may erase loopholes and make the writing process easier for myself, so that I can finally finish this thing. In time. 
> 
> Formatting is not the best because I really don't have the time to stress over such a thing, and chances are you've read it already if you give that much of a shit.
> 
> Thank you for reading. Let me know what you think.
> 
> -Cassie.

_What am I doing to myself?_  I think as I stand before a mirror, brushing my teeth for the twentieth time today. I examine my reflection. Nervously biting his lip ring stands a tall man with dark brown hair and eyes, shifting anxiously from foot to foot.  _Calm down_  I tell myself, as if it will help. I leave the bathroom and walk to the full length mirror in my room, hoping for a better look at my outfit. A plain long-sleeved white t-shirt and black jeans are all I wear, and I feel like it’s too much and not enough at the same time. I take a deep breath, because if things go as planned, tonight may very well be the biggest night of my life.

_Oh, shut the fuck up, you fucking drama queen._

     I check my phone. 7:03. Alright, I have twelve minutes. I brush my teeth one last time, grab my skateboard, and leave.  
     I arrive at Mark’s house a few minutes early, but I know he doesn’t give a fuck.  
     “TOM! Hey! Dude! You have to try these enchiladas I’m making _,_ they’re going to be fucking rad.” Mark says, leading me into the kitchen.  
     I laugh, “Oh, fantastic. More of Mark Hoppus’s famous cooking.”  
     “Yeah, and the secret ingredient is your dad’s cum.” Mark replies, “It’s going to be like, 45 minutes though dude. I started late, I’m sorry.”  
     “Dude. Fuck you. I come here to be happy, and you deprive me of my basic needs. _”_ I look around the huge kitchen, loving the fact that practically everything you can see, I have been with Mark when it happened. Dumb inside jokes buried in dorky pictures, cheesy magnets, and hideous kitchenware. I watch my best friend set the timer shaped like a cat (bought from that one trip to the flea market on our second tour) and get out two ugly red and green plates (Bought at a Big Lots when we were drunk about 2 years ago.)  
      “Hey, do you want to eat outside?” He asks me.  
      “Isn’t it supposed to rain?” I ask, looking out the window at the cloudy sky.  
      “Who cares man. I’m sick of being inside.”  
     We leave and go outside, just as it starts raining. We’re sitting at his nice outside table in his grassy backyard, as the drops of rain fall all over. I’m watching him intently as he speaks, his lips curving into a light smile as he finishes his sentence  
      “… and I swear dude, your dad has the tightest asshole I’ve ever fucked.” He looks at me, as if expecting a different reaction to the joke we’ve been tossing back and forth for the past thirteen years.  
     “Hey Mark, check this out,” I say as I pretend to cough up a middle finger. We both laugh at the child-like antics we’ve always possessed and look out at the dark yard. We sit in silence for a while, but who gives a fuck? It’s just one of those things Mark and I do. The ability to just relax wherever with him is one of the things I love about Mark. I sneak a glance at him. I’ve always been amazed (and yeah, maybe a little jealous) of those bright blue eyes. They have a kind and welcoming look about them that just makes you want to be around him. I think again at how lucky I am to be friends with him.  
     “Dude… You’re staring at me. Again.” Mark laughs and I look away, attempting to hide my blush.  
     “Sorry, sometimes your ugliness distracts me. I mean, sometimes I think you came out of your mom’s asshole covered in shit rather than her vagina.” I try my best to cover up with a lame comeback, and he just smiles and shakes his head.  
     “But really… Tom, you seem kind of out of it tonight. Are you all right?” Mark’s faint smile becomes concerned, and his eyes are listening, as he turns his body toward me, giving me his full attention.  
     “Yeah… Well… I don’t know. I-I have a lot on m- my mind?” My voice cracks as I stutter, leaving it to sound like a question.  
     “It’s okay, you can tell me. I’m here for you dude, and if it takes you four years to tell me,” he laughs, “so be it. You’re my best friend, and I will be here always.”  
     Mark is so fucking good at this! Why can’t I be more like him? I look up from my lap and nervous hands to those blue eyes I know so well. They’re telling me that he means what he says, that he doesn’t care how long it takes or how stupid it is that I want to tell him, he’ll always be here. The late January air pushes my hair in front of my face, giving me an excuse to stall, and I look down again.  
      _Tom! For fuck’s sake! Three words! It’s not that hard you fucking dumbass!_  I scold myself.  
      _Well,_  I think _, if he take’s it wrong I can always act like it was a joke_.  
     I look upward, and Mark’s easy and encouraging smile gives me the strength I need. I open my mouth, take a deep breath-

      _BEEEEEEEEEEP BEEEEEEEEP BEEEEEEEEEEEEP._

      “Oh shit! Dude, I forgot about the food. I’ll go get it ready while you think, okay? I’ll be back in like twenty minutes, I have a surprise for you!” Mark gives me a smile like he’s about to drug my food, and walks back into his house. When he’s out of sight I grit my teeth and pull on my hair. God, how fucking disappointing. How am I supposed to say anything now? Surprisingly, my lip slightly quivers and my eyes burn. Shit…. I lost my chance. I bite my lip as hard as I can and try to clear the fog that has taken over my brain, but it just makes me dizzy. Okay, now I’m overreacting, he’ll be right out. This just gives me more time to explain myself after I tell him that I…. After I say it. I get up and walk through the muddy grass to look upward at the sky. By now I’m soaked and I push my dripping hair back to fully enjoy the rain on my face. I pass a minute or two trying to guess where the next raindrop will land, never guessing correctly. I hear footsteps, and I know it’s now or never.  
     “Mark, I’m in l-” But I stop short.  
     Because who I see is not Mark.


	2. Turn Around (Tom's P.O.V)

     I try to make sense of what I’m seeing. Trick of the heavy rain?

     No.  
     What I see is a tall, extremely pale, thin, figure with longer legs and arms than humanly possible. Its dark huge eyes seem to suck all meaning I ever once falsely thought my life had from my body and mind. I feel I have completely lost my self in the present of this otherworldly creature, I am in a trance. But I am safe.  
     Yes, I am safe.  
     Safe.  
     “We will protect you.” I hear a soft, calming voice speak to me in my mind.  
      _Protect me from what, though?_ I think.  _This… This isn’t making any sense. What’s…. What’s going on?_  My thoughts are moving slowly, like when one tries to run in water. The raindrops are almost frozen in mid-air, the slow-motion wind creeps its way around my body and through my hair like a ghost’s hands.   
     “Do not worry, you are safe.” It’s voice creeps through my head.  
      _I know I am, why wouldn’t I be?…. Why…. Why wouldn’t I be?_  My head is foggier than when it was around Mark.  
      _MARK!_  I snap out of the trance.  
     “WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?! WHAT THE HELL- WHO ARE YOU? WHAT ARE YOU FUCKING DOING SHIT WHAT IS FUCK SHIT GOD NO WHY GOD NO.” I think I’m yelling, but somehow the scream is lost in my throat, and my lips are moving silently. I’m trying to back up, but all I can do is stand and twitch.  
     “Do not try to move. Do not try to talk. It shall not work, and you know this very well, Tom Delonge.” I can tell the creature is male, contrary to the light, smooth voice. Calming voice…. It’s very calming…. I feel the fog cloud my brain.  
      _God, no, please._  
     “Everything will be okay.”   
       _Liar._  
     “Do not make this difficult for yourself. _”_ I notice that its mouth is not moving. It is actually telepathically contacting me. It moves toward me, and I make another failed attempt to escape. It pulls out a strange ribbed, dark black syringe, where it came from, I can’t remember.  
      _Please, God, no. Don’t hurt me.  
_      The creature’s long leg’s don’t stop, and I realize how incredibly tall this…. this  _thing_ is. Probably over eight feet tall, the almost translucent being is exactly what you’d think an alien would look like.  
      _Is that what it is?_  At the time, I felt the amount of time it took to figure this out what perfectly normal. Strangely, I start to think about nonsense things.  
      _I can see the drops, why aren’t they falling?_  I wait for the rain to fall, but time is literally moving in slow motion.  _Did I remember to feed the dog? Shit, I hope he’s okay. And the doors… Did I lock the doors? Lock them? Did I? Did…._  My mind blanks as images of stars take over my vision. I feel an ache in the back of my head, and I realize that I have somehow fallen backwards and hit the ground painfully. The stars I see are the stars in the sky, mixed with the still slowly falling drops of rain. It feels as if it has been ten minutes, when it has probably been less than a second. I manage to slowly turn my head to the side, pressing my cheek into wet grass, and I look through the sliding glass doors of Mark’s house.  
      _Come outside._  
 _Please, come outside. Help me…_ I seem to believe that sending messages through my now heavy eyes will get his attention in some way.  
     “Your friend cannot help you,” the beast tells me.  
      _What is going to happen to me?_  
     “Nothing, we aren’t going to hurt you.”  
      _You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Go away. I have to feed my dog._  
     “Speaking that way toward me is not going to help you.”  
     My eyes are growing heavier and heavier, and my mind is again repeating dumb thoughts and images. I feel like I’m falling asleep after days of exhaustion.   
      _NO._  
     I fight against the boulders that have replaced my eyelids. I will fight this! I will! I will not be controlled! I breathe deeply, rapidly, quickly defeating the fog. My mouth opens in a silent scream of frustration and determination as I break my body out of the binding trance. I manage to wrestle myself into a sitting position, crashing through the floating drops of water, and the water in my face wakes me up completely. I stand and face the creature, who now stands about five feet away from me.  
     “ _FUCK YOU!”_ I attempt to scream, but I just end up yelling it in my head.  
     “Get back down. I do not want to have to use this on you.” He waves the syringe slowly.  
     I try to run to the sliding doors, but I find myself on my back again, just out of Mark’s view. I see him also moving slowly, victim to this crazy time control and completely oblivious. I watch as he accidentally elbows one of our plates off the counter.  
      _MARK. TURN AROUND. I’M RIGHT HERE._  
     The plate begins to tip off the counter. __  
For god’s sake, please turn around.  
     He is turning his head toward the plate, no emotion has even registered on his face yet. The feeling of desperation I have right now is more intense than any other feeling I’ve ever had. I want nothing more for time to speed up and for him to see me. From the corner of my eye, I see the alien walking toward me, looking extremely pissed. But I’m still watching Mark, his blue eyes widening and his arms begin to move to catch the falling dish.   
     The monster leans down right next to me, readying the needle. I wait for the rain to fall and wake me up again, for Mark to look up, for time to regain it’s step, but all I get is a message from this savage.  
     “I told you, Tom Delonge. This would have been much easier if you had just obeyed.”  
      _I need to tell him something. Please let me…. please let me allow him…allow him to need something…._ My thoughts are scrambled again, and the fog clouds my brain, the restrains buckling me down to the soaked grass.  
     “I cannot let you do that. It would be best to let go, you will not be seeing him again.” The freak taps the syringe, getting the air bubbles out, and the plate is half way to the floor. Mark is reaching for it, but he does not look up to meet my frantic eyes.  
     I feel an intense pain in my neck as the vile creature stabs the needle deep into me. My face contorts into a silent scream.  
      _GOD PLEASE. WHAT HAVE I DONE TO DESERVE THIS? I CAN’T HANDLE THIS. PLEASE, LET ME GO. I WILL NEVER SPEAK A WORD._  
     Mark, you fucking bastard, look up. LOOK AT ME.  
     The alien shoots the fluid into me, and I feel it coursing through my veins, burning my limbs. I feel it hit my heart.  
      _Please, I need help._  
     I look at my favorite eyes for the last time.  
      _I need you._  
     The last thing I see is the plate shattering.


	3. The Park (Tom's P.O.V)

_I’m running._  
 _I’m flying.  
_ _I am far, far away._  
     Far away from where?  
     It doesn’t matter.  
     I see a figure in the distance.  
     I touch ground. Sand? Grass? I think it’s grass. Damn, I’m warm, it’s so sunny. I love the sun. It’s so sunny today, I love it. It makes me so happy.  
     The figure draws nearer.  
     “Mark!” I don’t need the sun to keep me warm anymore. “Dude, hey! Isn’t this great? It’s so sunny!”  
     Mark is smiling. “Hey, Tom. It sure is sunny. How are you feeling?”  
     “Uh, well, great! I feel so fantastic! A little hungry though. What about you?”  
     “Oh, I’m okay. Do you want to sit down?” He walks over to a shady spot under a tree.  
     “Yeah, okay,” I sit down beside him, and start pulling up fists of grass.”So, I have a few ideas about the next album. I was thi-“  
     “Tom. Do you know where you are?” He interrupts me.  
     “Uh. The park dude. Why?…. Anyway I was thinking maybe-“  
     “Tom, you aren’t at the park.” Mark looks sad.  
     “Mark. What the fuck. If you don’t want to talk about the new album we don’t have to.”  
     “Tom…. I… I don’t know how to say this. But you know I love you, you’re like my brother, and you’ll always be my best friend… right?” Mark looks so sad. Why is he sad?  
     “Uh, yeah man. I love you too. What’s going on? Is everything okay?” I’m so worried. And as if mimicking my emotions, rain starts pouring down. My sunny paradise has transformed into a storm, and Mark’s eyes reflect the sadness I suddenly feel.  
     “Tom…. You’re…. We…” Mark can’t finish his sentence. His eyes are shining with tears and he’s trying his hardest to stay composed.  
     “Hey, Mark, whatever it is, it’s okay. You can tell me.” I smile, repeating words he’s said to me so many times. __  
“We aren’t at the park Tom. You’re…. You’re dead.”  
     I just raise my eyebrows. “Uh, okay. When did you last sleep?”  
     He just ignores me. “Well, not completely dead. Yet. You’re dying. Don’t forget Tom. Don’t let them make you forget. You need to stay alive, have faith, just for me, okay? You’re going to die, and they’re going to make you forget. You need to remember.”  
     “Mark, you’re scaring me. What do you mean? Who?” I’m so cold, this rain is like acid.  
     “I…” He stands up and pulls me up with him. He hugs me tighter than ever before, and I feel the warmth of his body defrosting my stone cold one. He pulls away, and his tears are flowing freely now.  
     “I…. It’s time for you to go back now, Tom.” I’m holding on to him, trying to ask what’s going on, but I’m so scared. I’m so fucking scared I just stand there. He squeezes my shoulders one last time, and turns away.  
     “Mark, no, where are you going? Please stay. Please stay with me, you don’t have to go. DON’T LEAVE ME HERE.” He turns back, giving me the saddest smile I will ever see.  
     “Hey, you’re the one leaving , not me. I’ll always _be here.”_

 __  
And that’s when I wake up.


	4. The Villian (Tom's P.O.V)

    I open my eyes, and they are scalded by a bright light hanging over me, I squint them shut. I’m so disoriented… I can’t feel my body, I can’t feel anything. I open my mouth and breath in, out. Okay, I need to gather my bearings. How did I get here? I think I’m on a table. Oh, oh well, I’m so sleepy, I think I might just….  
       _I….. What is that?_  I get these weird feelings, just outside (around?) the blackness. _What the-_ Oh. Right. Hearing, that thing your ears do. It starts out very quiet, just fragments of… speech, I think. Yeah, they’re starting to make sense.  
     “… conscious? Shall we put him back under?”  _Am I in surgery? Weird… I must be getting that back surgery I’ve been needing, thank god!_  I open my eyes to see what’s going on, but the thing I see peering down at me is not a doctor. That’s when it all comes flooding back to me.  
     I widen my eyes in panic, yelling ,”WHAT THE FUCK? WHERE AM- WHAT IS FUCKING HAPPENING?!” My words fall into a jumbled mess and so I’m just screaming. Screaming as loud as I can, will someone hear me? I try to copy motions that I would normally make with my body, had I been able to feel anything at all, to release myself from the invisible bonds, but fail. I lift up my head and bring it down as hard as I can, hoping that the pain will spread and wake my body up. It seems to help so I do it again, and again, and again. But before I can fully regain the feeling, my head clouds. I don’t know if it is from some sort of mind control or from banging away on my head against a metal table.   
     “Calm down. You are safe.” The female monster tells me, obviously very oblivious to the fact that I have just been fucking kidnapped, and completely numb, not to mention the fact that I may or may not ever go home again. But this is not what is running through my head, what is running through the sludge in my brain and sputtering out of my mouth is…  
     “But… Home…. Mark? Mark is home… am I home? Who….. When is the after? Over and where?” I can’t get through a sentence, but a part of me knows that bringing up Mark is important.  
     “You will not be returning to Earth, I apologize. As for your friend, well, he will be okay. We have sent down a replacement.” I don’t think the words necessarily process, because I don’t say anything. I turn my head to the right, my face presses into the cold table. What am I looking for? The room is bright, and I see a small table within an arms reach of me.  
      _Is that…._  I have to suppress a smile. It’s a medical equipment table, and on it sits a very lethal looking scalpel. I look back upward, so they won’t notice what I’m looking at. They are walking back and forth, but I don’t pay attention to what they’re doing. I’m planning to launch myself off the table and to the scalpel to cut their eyes out when a rational thought breaks through the clouds.  
      _You can’t move, remember, dumbass?_  
     “Nice try, though. We probably would have stopped you before you got your back off the table, but if we were human, I’m sure you would have gotten away with it.”  The alien speaks with a tone that sounds like he would be smiling. __  
“Mark…?” I manage to choke out.  
     “We have already spoken on this topic. You will not be returning to Earth. We have sent a copy to replace you and… take care of things.”  
     Ha. I knew I was dreaming. The villain, kidnapping, clones, paralysis, fog, aliens.  
      “You are not dreaming, Tom Delonge. This is very, very real.” The fog in my brain clears just for a second, long enough for a silent message to tell me that what he is saying is true.  
      “You are never going back,  _ever._  You will remain here, with us. You will forget what happened. You will forget your friends.”  
      My eyes close, and with each sentence the fog in my head becomes a thicker black.  
     “You will forget your family.”  
     My breathing deepens, it’s like quicksand, and I’m sinking further and further.  
     “You will forget your pathetic band.”  
     I barely catch the next words, but they will stick with me always.  
     “You will forget who you are, and who you were.”  
     My face slackens, and the words echo as I slip into the black abyss of unconsciousness .  
  
      _You will forget._


	5. Black Strings (Mark's P.O.V)

        _Shit._  I bend down and pick up one of the shards of broken plate that I had just elbowed off the counter. I know Tom won’t be mad at me, but I look out the sliding door anyway, hoping he didn’t see. He must be somewhere else in the yard, cause I don’t see anyone, thank god. I get way too attached to the little things, I feel a pang of loss but fuck man, look at this mess.  
        _Eh, I’ll clean it up later._  I use my arm to brush it in front of the refrigerator. As I stand up I look at the “surprise” I prepared for Tom. It’s nine six packs of Esculentus, Tom’s favorite drink. It’s not alcohol or anything, just what  _he_  thinks is the most tasty thing ever. I would rather drink dog semen mixed with diarrhea. He’s only drank it a few times though, because for some reason they’re the hardest thing to find in the fucking world. I can imagine the look of happiness and shock on his face, begging me to “give it one more try” and him savoring every last drop. When I happened across a store that sold a very limited supply, I bought every case. I smile, god, I love that motherfucker.  
       I grab another plate from the cupboard, and shovel food on to it. I balance the plates and utensils on one arm, carry one pack of Esculentus, and open the sliding door with my foot, a skill I’ve acquired over the years. The air is cold, and I make my way to the table quickly, hoping to get my precious enchiladas under the umbrella before they’re ruined. I turn, looking for Tom. I see him standing by the tiny pond, hands in pockets, looking down at the koi fish. He’s… Well, he’s pretty dry for someone who’s been standing in the rain for so long, but I don’t think anything of it.  
       “Hey, asshole! I got your food!” I yell across the yard. He looks up from the pond, but not towards me, just straight ahead, with a blank look on his face. I guess what he needs to tell me is really getting to him. He turns toward me, his eyes hold an empty stare, and his hands remain in his pockets as he takes long strides across the yard. He never breaks eye contact, and neither do I, as he sits down.  
        _What the fuck is wrong with him?_  This… This isn’t right… I sit down across from him, my lips parted and eyebrows drawn together in confusion.   
       “Hey… Are you okay? Do you want to tell me now?” I ask, placing my hands on the table, then move them awkwardly to my lap.  
       “I…” He starts, his voice sounding deeper than usual, “I need to tell you something.” He face is still blank, he sits as straight as possible, arms at his sides.  
       “Go on, I’m listening.” I lean forward, giving him my attention.  
       “I can’t do this anymore. I’m so stressed. I feel so awful, this isn’t right for me anymore. This life… It’s just not what I want anymore.” He finally looks down, his posture becoming more human when he leans forward and places his hands on the table.  
        _No. This can’t be happening._ Tom? Suicidal?  _Shit shit shit shit. I don’t know how to- what do I do?_ My eyes widen, and I feel shock hit my body. No, god, I can’t lose him.  
       “Tom… It’s okay. We- we can get you help. Or not, you know, you know I- I could just help you on my own if that’s what, uh, if that’s what you want. I… I’m always here, you know that.” Fuck, I haven’t had to do this in years, I just don’t know what to say. Tom hasn’t been like this in almost ten years, I thought… I thought he was all better.  
       “Tom…. I…. I don’t know how to say this. But you know I love you like my brother and you’ll always be my best friend… Right?” I stop, cause I’m choking back emotions I’m not prepared to deal with yet. I reach over and grab one of his hands, it’s ice cold but I don’t draw back. “I will do anything,  _anything_  to help you. You need to stay alive, have faith, just for me, okay?”  
       “Mark, I’m okay. I mean… I mean being in the band. I… can’t… be in Blink anymore. The shows, the tours, the albums, the press, the fame…. there’s just no more “me” time anymore. I just… I wasn’t prepared for this. It’s too much, every day I wake up dreading the things I have to do.” My mouth has dropped open, my hand recoils. Who is this man? Tom… Tom loves being with us. He says every day how much he loves being in a band, how his dreams have come true…  _Is this a fucking joke?_  No, I know it’s not.   
       “I can’t stand it. I can’t even stand being around you and Travis anymore. I hate this life, I hate this fucking band!” He’s growing angry, but for me it’s like someone has thrown my skinless body into salt. With each word is another blow to my heart. My mind is scrambling, I don’t believe this is happening. I hit the back of my chair, my hands dangling off the sides. A knot forms in my chest, made of thick black strings attached to every inch of my body, pulling me inward.  
        _Why?_  I want to say, but I can only manage to mouth it.  
       “Why?! Because it’s time for me to grow up! I can’t be around you immature idiotic people! I can’t take this anymore! I can’t take being laughed at for stupid jokes, people think I’m unintelligent, Mark! I’m sorry, but I…. I quit.”  
       By leaning back in my chair, I am now getting pelted by the heavy rain. It doesn’t do anything for the confusion and clouds in my head though. I want to say something like “Please, can we talk this through?” or “Are you sure this is what you want?” because that’s what a reasonable person would say. But sadly, I have used all of today’s “reasonable” on resisting the urge to lunge across the table and strangle the motherfucker.   
       What I  _do_ say is, “YOU FUCKING DUMBASS. YOU THINK YOU CAN DO THIS TO US? WE ARE THE  _BIGGEST BAND IN THE FUCKING WORLD_  RIGHT NOW. YOU THINK YOU CAN JUST WALK AWAY? AND FOR WHAT REASONS? YEAH, FAME, PRESS, SHOWS, TOURS, THAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU’RE IN A BAND. WHAT DID YOU FUCKING EXPECT? FREE MONEY AND UNLIMITED TIME? ARE YOU FUCKING STUPID?” I grab the underside of my plate and throw it into the yard, and it shatters. I stand up, and so does he. We’re both so fucking pissed, I’ve never seen Tom this pissed before.  
      “EXCUSE ME?  _I’M_  THE STUPID ONE? YOU’RE JOKING, RIGHT? I just want to start a life of my own. I want to start  _all_  over. THIS IS WHY I’M QUITTING, MARK. You hold me back! Why can’t you just let me go?” He pauses, breathing deeply, his brown eyes wild with anger. We stand in the dumping rain, teeth bared like savages. Though I’m still pissed, my body relaxes somewhat, I’m so confused. Why is he doing this? He… He said this was forever.  
       “You… You said this was the greatest thing that ever happened to you! What’s wrong with you, Tom? Why are you doing this to us? To me?” I feel my eyes stinging, but I blink back the tears I don’t want to show.  
       “No. I’m done. Maybe at one point it was what I wanted, but I have different priorities now.” He shoots me a cold glare through the rain, completely void of any indication that he feels bad for what he’s putting me through. This feels totally unreal. I… I can’t process anything.  
       “So… So this is goodbye?” I choke out.  
       “This isn’t just goodbye, this is I can’t stand you.” He gives me one last look and I just stand and watch him as he walks out of my house, out of my life.


	6. Nothing Matters (Mark's P.O.V)

      I am soaked. I am dripping. I have been standing in the same position for the past twenty five minutes. My legs are aching, the food is cold, the sliding door was left open and my house is flooding, but nothing matters.  
     No, nothing matters at all.  
     It has been twenty five minutes since I let my best friend walk out of my life. Since I stood completely useless as he walked home, not bothering to run after him. Like I should have. But his famous last words kept me cemented in my backyard, in the dumping rain.  
      _This is I can’t stand you.  
     _I can’t feel anything. Nothing is real. I feel like somebody has ripped out all of my organs and replaced them with a vast, empty, gray space. My mind can only process one thought.  
       _Why did he go?_  
      I stand in my shoes made of stone and look at the door. Waiting for him to come back. Waiting for him to come bounding through the door with a shit-eating grin on his face yelling that he was kidding. It was all a joke, he didn’t mean a thing. For him to smile and hug me, tell me that I looked like such a pussy. For him to apologize, and for us to sit down and eat.  
      But the doorway remains empty, and the food remains untouched.  
      It’s not until there is a clap of lightning ten minutes later that I move. I look around, it’s close to nine, and it’s already long past dark. I stumble inside, taking as much time as possible to close the door. I don’t even bother with the puddle that has formed on the tile in my kitchen. My lips are parted in shock, my body slumped. I drag my feet across the floor, down the hallway. I keep my eyes down, a subconscious effort to keep myself from looking at the Blink-182 gold, platinum, records on the walls. The pictures of us when we first started out, pictures of friends and family, the bass I used on the first record dangling from an on-wall stand. The side tables holding my favorite pictures. I can’t bear to look, I just stare blankly ahead. I’m almost to my bedroom when I see it, right there, leaned up against the space by the front door, where it always is.  
     Tom’s skateboard.  
     I absolutely lose it. I’m ripping down all of the photos, smashing their frames against the walls. Yelling like an animal with each frame I break. The pictures are on the floor, pissing me off even more with each one of  _his_  smiles. I find myself smashing the left over frames and large pieces of glass with my fists. I’m bleeding so badly, up and down my arms from the fragments that explode towards me, but nothing matters. I don’t have the heart to rip apart the pictures, though. So I stuff them into a side table’s drawer. I have no more pictures to smash, and I just drag myself to my room, blood dripping on the floor. I barely make it to my bed before I collapse face down.  
     I’m staining the sheets, but I don’t care. I actually wipe my hands off on the sheets, making it look like some horrible murder. I don’t give a damn, this  _is_  a murder. My heart still beats, but the rest of me is dead. I have lost everything in one night, my life has lost all meaning. I stay buried in my pillows for a long time. How long, I don’t remember, but my arms have stopped bleeding. I have no emotions at all, no feeling. I want to sleep, for it to all go away. I reach into one of my bedside tables and pull out my last resort. I take the three sleeping pills dry, them slowly sliding down my throat. I coach myself on breathing, waiting for the pills to take their course.  
       _Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale._  It only takes around ten minutes, I feel the darkness of deep sleep enveloping me.  
       _Why did he go?_  
      I drift off, nightmares don’t even bother visiting.

 


	7. Questioning (Tom's P.O.V)

_Ouch, my head is killing me._  
    I sit up in my white bed, look around my completely white room and sigh contently.  
     _Home._  My mouth is curved in a light smile, and I swing my legs over the edge of my bed, looking down at my white pajamas. I kick my legs back and forth under the bed, enjoying myself.  
     I don’t really think about anything, I just feel so great. I stand up and walk to the restroom in the far left corner opposite my bed, and do my usual morning routine. Pee, wash hands, brush teeth, floss, brush hair. I look up at the mirror, and I half-smile because I’m quite atrocious looking compared to my roommates. But hey, they accept me for who I am, who am I to complain?  
     I walk out of my room and down the steps to the kitchen area. I also eat different foods, but that’s just the way things are.  
    “Hello.” I hear a smooth voice say from behind me. I turn around and look at my tall companion, Adar.  
    “Hello.” I reply. I’m quite jealous of their features. Tall, thin, pale, and their arms and legs are so incredibly long. Their large dark eyes, I wish I had them, besides these stupid brown ones.  
    “How are you feeling?” He asks me, mouth not moving. I’m also the only one that has to use their mouth to communicate. I feel so small around them, so stupid.  
    “I’m feeling well! How are you feeling?” I smile at him, and I grab a bowl of my favorite cereal. Plain Cheerios. I dump the water into the bowl and start eating before it gets soggy.  
    “I am fine. Thank you for asking. You know you have Questioning today?” He reminds me of my daily task.  
    “Yes, I will be there soon. I would like to go upstairs and change, if that’s alright?” I ask. I don’t want to do anything wrong, there would be severe punishment for that. What they are, I don’t know, but I do know that I  _don’t_  want to find out.  
     “That is alright. Go on ahead.” He dismisses me and I put my bowl in the cleaner bin. You just put your dirty dishes in there and they’re instantly cleaned and put away. I love watching it, even though I’m pretty sure I’ve been doing the same thing my entire life. I head up the steps and back into my assigned room. The changing room is just to the left of the restroom, and I step in. It’s completely dark, I can’t see anything in the small place, but I feel the pijamas I have on being replaced with my Calling Clothes. Some machine does it, but that doesn’t take away the amazement I feel everytime I change. Stepping out of the room, I re-ajust my plain long-sleeved white t-shirt and white jeans. I go into the bathroom and make sure I look presentable. Standing before me is a tall man with dark brown hair and eyes, with an anxious look on his face.   
      _Okay_ ,  _off I go._  I walk down the steps, down the hallway, and out of the living quarters. I’m a tad nervous, Questioning is always scary for me, I always feel like I’m going to mess up and they’re going to hurt me.  
      _Whoa, did I just think that?_  Why would they hurt me? They’ve never hurt me before, why would they hurt me now? I hope this doesn’t mean I’ll say something I’ll regret later. I arrive before a door with a question mark on it and walk in. It’s an open room with two chairs, a strange machine, and a tall stranger.  
     ”Hello, how are you? My name is Samir.” She tells me. She is slightly shorter than the males, but that’s the way things are. Either way, she’s still a good foot and a half taller than I, I don’t mind. “How about you sit down? I will set up the Reddo.”  
     I sit down. “What does the Reddo do?” I’m sure I’ve done this before, but I don’t remember the contraption.  
     “‘Reddo’ means ‘translate’ in Latin. This is so we can translate what you are saying so the others may understand.” She tells me, setting it up gracefully. Her hands seems to dance across the air, delicately making light adjustments to the gadget. It’s a small box with hundreds of switches and buttons, with a strange looking microphone aimed toward my general direction. I lick my lips nervously, and chew on the inside of my cheek.  
      _Calm down. Why am I freaking out? It’s fine. I’ve done this thousands of times._  
     ”Are you ready? We will begin now if you are.” She sits down with a clipboard and pen, her eyes inspecting my face. Any sign of nervousness can hint that I’m lying, which means consequences.   
      I don’t want that, so I take a deep breath, smile slightly and say, “Yes, we can start.”  
     ”Okay. So tell me, what were you first thoughts when you awoke this morning?”  
     “My head kind of hurt.” I say. I just hope that I answer correctly, even though I’m telling the truth.  
      “Why do you think it hurt?” She scribbles something down. Uh oh, does this mean I was wrong?!  
     “Uh- um. I don’t know. Maybe I bumped it before I bed last night. I-I just woke up and it was hurting. Only a little bit though. It-“  
     ”It’s okay. Does it still hurt?” I sigh in relief.  
     “Yes.”  
      “Okay, when you are done we can give you some medication for that if you like.” She is very nice, I like her very much.  
     “Yes, I would like that, thank you very much.”  
     “Did you change your clothes today?”  
     “Wha- yes! Of course.” What a  _weird_  question.  
     “Did you use the changing room, though?”  
      “Yes… Why wouldn’t I?” I ask. Are there other ways to change?  
      “Just asking.” I feel like this has something to do with the fact that I’m different. I’m the only one with hair, colored eyes (pretty much the only color in this place) teeth (I think, who knows), I’m short, I am the only one who has to wear clothes, eat, everything. I’m so different, but she’s the first one to treat me as such. I shift uncomfortably in my seat and she goes on.  
      “Do you know what day it is?”  
      “Sunday, January 23rd, 2005.”  
      “Good. Can you tell me what your name is?”  
      That one gets me. I…. I can’t remember having a name. “I-I’m so sorry. I… I can’t remember….” I tell her.  _Please don’t punish me, please don’t punish me._  
      “It’s okay. Your name is Thomas. We will call you Tom.” She politely reminds me. _She’s probably judging me again, though_.   
      “Thank you. My name is Tom.” Sounds familiar in my mouth, how could I have forgotten?  
      ”Where are you from?” She asks me, trick question.  
      “I am from here, where I was raised. This is home.” I smile, proud of myself. I feel the session coming to a close. They’re usually very short, just like this one, and yet everytime I get nervous.  
      “What is your favorite hobby?”  
      “Reading.”  
      “What do you enjoy reading about?”  
      “Quantum mechanics, black holes, string theory, uh, cats. Stuff like that.” I say. She scribbles something down, and I’m nervous again. “Uh… Is that-“  
      “Yes, that is all Tom. You may go back to your quarters now.” I was going to ask if that was an appropriate answer, but oh well.  
      “Okay, bye Samir, thank you.” I get up and walk out the door and back to my living quarters. I don’t know how long it’s been, but the green light above the doorway to the dining room indicates that it’s lunchtime. I eat my sandwhich (two pieces of lettuce in between slices of bread) alone. There are others here in the dining room, but none of which I know. After I finish, I head up the steps back to my room. I walk up to the far right corner of my room(directly across from the restroom) to my library, which is only a computer and two slots. Basically, you type in, or search, the book you want and it pops out of one of the slots. Then, when you’re finished, you just slide the book back through the other slot. It’s quite convenient, it’s hard to make a mess.   
      I sit down in my white chair and start scrolling through books the computer has recommended I read. I see one that interests me  _(Quantum Living)_ and order it. The computer takes a few minutes to find the book out of thousands, so I stand up and use the restroom. When I finish, I look back up to the mirror. I’m not very vain, I just…. I feel like something is missing. I inspect every inch of my face until I see it. What _it_  is or means, I don’t know. It’s a very small hole just under the right side of my lip. I feel like something was there before, and I’m beginning to remember something when-  
       _Plunk!_  The little white book has arrived. I pick it up out of the bin and walk to my bed,  beginning to read. It’s not until a little red light above my doorway a few hours later telling me that it’s dinner time that I put down my book. I sit up, mind racing at the things I have just learned. The universe is a truly beautiful place, capable of anything. I stand up and walk down to the dining area, where again I eat my meal of plain spaghetti alone. People must not like me. I feel a small pang in my chest,  _why? Just because I look different? Talk different?_  I quickly finish up my meal and walk to my room. I can’t stand being ostracized, especially for something so insignificant. I’m reading my book again, when I hear a light knock on my door.  
      “May I come in?” Someone asks, I can tell it’s Adar.  
      “Of course.” I say, he walks in.  
      “I heard you may be in need of some medication, for a minor headache?” He holds up a white screw-off bottle.  
      “Oh!” I hit my forehead with my hand. I had completely forgotten! “I’m so sorry, my headache went away.”  
      “It’s quite all right, Tom. You can just keep them in your restroom cupboard until you need them.” He walks to my restroom and puts them in the small cupboard, above the toilet. “Sleep well, Tom,” he says, while walking out and closing the door.  
       _That was nice of him._  I think. I put my book on my white beside table. It must be bedtime, because the light on my bedside table has automatically dimmed. I walk over to the changing room and the machines change me back into my pijamas. I climb under the covers and switch the lamp the all the way off. My bed senses that I’m about to go to sleep and instantly warms to the perfect temperature.  
       _I love it here_.  
      I fall asleep.


	8. Everything Was Fine (Mark's P.O.V)

      I awake, face up, staring blankly at the ceiling. I’m still very groggy, the sleeping pills seem to have just worn off. Sitting up, I look down at my healing arms.   
 _Shit, there’s probably bits of glass stuck inside of me._  I grimace at the thought, and pull myself out of bed and toward the bathroom. I don’t look in the mirror, I don’t want to see my fucking face. The water washes the dried blood off my hands as I scrub fiercely with as hot of water as I can. My arms are smooth, except for the bumps of swollen wounds, but I’m looking for ridges of broken glass, and am slightly disappointed when I don’t feel any.  
 _I could have gotten some crazy-ass infection and died. That would have been a good one to read in the papers, “Mark Hoppus dies a horrible, disgusting death after smashing all of his photos like a pathetic four year old and getting himself infected after his best fri-“_  I stop my thoughts right there. I don’t want to think about that now.  
      I sterilize my little cuts with the only thing I can really think of, hydrogen peroxide.  
 _Fuck!!! This shit stings!_  I wrap up some toilet paper and quickly wipe it off. I throw it into the overflowing waste bin, and side-glance into the mirror. What I see is enough to make me look all the way. Dark circles underr my red eyes would tell anyone that I barely got any sleep that night, but I remember sleeping heavily. Messed up hair shows that I tossed and turned, which I also don’t remember. I guess insomnia is another thing my mind isn’t ready to accept yet. I stare blankly at myself in the mirror for god knows how long, thinking about god knows what. I’m just floating in gray, nothing exists, nothing matters, I can’t feel anything.  
 _BRRRIIIIIIING. BRRRIIIIIIING. BRRRIIIIIIING._ My phone pierces the silence and startles me. I take a breath and walk out of my bedroom, but stop short. The hallway is littered with broken glass and broken frames. Every single photo was torn down and smashed roughly against the walls, I don’t remember making such a mess. I carefully make my way down the hallway and into the living room, where my house phone is. I pick it up and answer just before the last ring and wait.  
      “…..”  
      “…..”  
      “…..Uh. Mark?” Shit. I forgot that I’m supposed to speak first.  
      “Oh, yeah. Uh…. Hello. Ma-Ca-May I ask who’s calling?” I simply can’t remember how to talk.  
      “Wha- Really? It’s Travis.” My other best friend is calling me. Why?  _Wait. Wait does he- does he know about T-_ I bite my lip hard, and the pain keeps me from thinking the name. Be happy, act chipper!  
      “Travis, hi! Hello! Happy!” Shit, what did I just say?! “I mean, um, how are you? I was thinking about this ping-pong table I’ve been wanting, do you think it’d be a goo-?”  
      “Mark… Our manager called this morning….” He pauses.  
      “Yeah? And?”  
      “He said he tried to reach you but you wouldn’t answer. It’s 3:30 in the afternoon Mark, where in the hell have you been?” Holy fucking shit, is it really?  
      “Uh-wh-I was sleeping.” I feel even more pathetic. “Anyway, what did he call about?”  
      “I… I think I should come over. I can be there in twenty minutes.” I nod, even though I have a pretty good idea what he’s going to tell me.  
      “You there? I don’t have to come over if you don’t want me to…” He tells me, and then I realize what a fucking idiot I am. I just  _nodded_  at a  _phone._    
      “No! Come on over, I just spaced out.” We say goodbye and I sit down on the black couch in my living room and put up my feet on the black coffee table. Everything is so dark here, I need to get out of here. I go into my room and change out of my black Atticus shirt and Dickies into a red Hurley and khakis. I notice that I still have my shoes on from last night, and I leave them on. I turn around from closet and face my bloodstained sheets. You can see very clearly where I dragged my hands across the bed, beginning in hand prints and smearing abruptly to a stop, to be started again somewhere else. I sigh and rip everything off the bed, and walk out the front door to the street. I stuff them into the trash bin and walk to the kitchen to make Travis and myself some coffee. I lean against the counter across from it, and put thre-… two cups in front of it, willing to just stand in the same place until it’s finished.  
      I hear my front door softly close, and just as I expected, there is a long pause before the sounds of Travis crunching over broken glass are heard. Probably wondering what happened.  
      “Mark…?” I turn around, biting my lip nervously. My tattooed friend stands in the doorway of my kitchen, his big blue eyes searching for an answer, an answer he already knows.  
      “He was here when it happened, wasn’t he?” I slowly nod, biting my lip harder and harder.  
      “Mark, I’m so sorry. Was- Did it get violent? Is that how this happened?” I can’t open my mouth, so I just suck in my lips and shake my head. He walks toward me, looking concerned. Travis is such a great friend, but I can’t bear to let him see me like this, not so close to frustrated tears. He leans against the counter opposite of me, next to the coffee maker.  
      “Did he say why?” I know this must be hurting him too, and I owe him a response, but I stand there bobbing my head up and down like a fool.  
      ”Our manager… he just told me that he quit. No reason, just said ‘To-‘”  
      “Stop!” I blurt out. I can’t hear the name. “Please. Stop.” I might as well try to tell him what happened. “H-He came over last night and everything was fine. W-we were going to eat dinner an-and talk about the n-new alb-bum but th-” I choke, and I struggle to swallow the lump in my throat. My eyes are burning and my nose is starting to run, I know that if I don’t calm down soon I’m going to be a mess. I take three deep breaths, and Travis patiently waits, looking very sad as well. “But then I went in-inside and came ba-back out later cause I had the food ready and-and he was gonna-gonna tell me somet-thing b-before I left but it- it didn’t s-seem bad at the t-time!” I break, and my breath catches in emotion, and I put my face in my hands, sobbing uncontrollably. I feel Travis put an arm around me and guide me to the couch in my living room. He sits me down and sits next to me, his face consumed by emotion too.  
      “He-he said he couldn’t stand me! H-he said he need-needed to grow up! W-we’re too- dumb, -immature, b-but so was he!” I’m crying so hard, I feel like my heart is draining itself through my tears. My face is buried in my hands, a sorry attempt to push the emotion back into my face. I can’t tell if Travis is crying, but I don’t care, I’m busy suffocating. “Why?  _Why? Why did he leave us?!_  Am I-I not g-good eno-ugh? We’re a-all he has! H-he can’t do  _shit_  without us. He said he was s-sick of the f-fame! A-and the shows. S-sick of us. He h-hates m-me.” I stop, because the overwhelming sadness is wrecking my whole body and mind, I couldn’t dream of forming a sentence now. I can hear Travis crying, something I rarely witness, but it’s an appropriate time. We both lost somebody, some stupid best friend, for no fucking reason. I lean into the couch, burying my face more, my hands lying in a useless heap in my lap. I end up lying down, and a long while later a gray numbness takes over my mind, and my crying ceases.  
      Travis is in his own world, dealing with his grief in his own way. I just lay staring into the couch. Hours of silence pass, but I could not lay here long enough. I want to lay here forever, let depression become the time that rots me away. Eventually Travis has to go, we have no words to share with each other right now. No words of comfort, not yet, we’re still in shock. Shocked at how someone you thought was always going to be there could just decide to get up and walk out of your life like you didn’t even matter.  
      So when Travis gets up and pats me on the shoulder, I just lay in numbness, and he goes home.  
      I am so empty. I just want to sleep, make it all go away, so I close my eyes. Hours of crying have made it easy for this, and my thoughts are a mixed mess of letters that refuse to make words. I can only manage to put together a few words before I submiss to my dreams.  
 _Please come back._  
      The gray fades to black.


	9. The Angel (Tom's P.O.V)

_A man stands behind me, he is only slightly shorter than I._  
     “ _Tom? Is that you? What are you doing out here?” He yells at me, approaching me. Isn’t it obvious? I’m looking at the stars, and I tell him that._  
    _“Why?” He asks me._  
 _“I’m daydreaming,” I say softly._  
 _“Daydreaming can be like torture, you know. What about?” He’s standing next to me now, looking at me curiously. I turn my head toward him, his face blank, eyes black. I recognize him, but I don’t know where from._  
 _“I… don’t really remember.” I knit my eyebrows together. I grow confused, how did this man know who I was, where did he come from? His face isn’t making much sense, I know him, but there is some wall in my mind keeping me from putting the pieces together. I turn and face him completely, searching frantically for his identity. He looks at me, his eyes completely black, there are no whites. His perfect lips are slightly parted, almost frozen. He reminds me of a fallen angel, his features sculpted out of the most perfect stone, black eyes expressing utmost pain and moroseness._  
 _“Who… Who are you?” I ask the angel, drowning myself in his eyes. I want to touch his face, see if he’s real. I don’t, I don’t want to scare him._  
 _“You know who I am. You just have to remember.” His lips move slowly, moving gracefully like the mason that carved him._  
 _“I can’t remember, I don’t know who you are.”_  
 _“Yes you do. You have to remember. They made you forget. They killed you, and they made you forget. You will remember soon, I know. But when you do, remember this. Tom, you have to remember this. You can NOT let them know you remember. I know this is confusing now, but you’ll have to take it one step at a time. You know nothing. You have to pretend so you’ll be safe.” He is standing perfectly still._  
 _“What are you talking about?! Who?! They killed me? What?”_  
 _“They took your life, yes.”_  
 _“What do I need to remember?” I want him to know I care about what he’s saying. I lean my face towards his, I don’t know why, but I want to be closer and closer to him. I lightly smile, because he’s so beautiful. I want him to be mine. He doesn’t notice my advances, and stares into me as his soft mouth forms his words._  
 _“Remember who you were.”_

_  
_     I slowly open my eyes to the bright lights in my room. I close them again, because I want to go back to my dream with my angel, but sleep does not return to me. I sigh and sit up in my bed, slowly rubbing my forehead, a pounding headache living behind my head. I debate taking the little white pills but decide against it, for some unknown reason. I look up to see the yellow light that shows breakfast is ready. I stand up and have to use my bedside table to balance me, because my headache has made me unbelievably dizzy. I recover and head down the hallway and steps to the kitchen area, wondering what delicacies will present themselves today. I reach into the food dispenser and pull out another favorite of mine, oiled toast. It’s just a piece of cooked bread with cooking oil drizzled on top, but it has a strange way of tasting delicious. I grab a cup from the holder and fill it with water, it’s the only drink we have besides Tedium, but I’ve tried that once and let’s just say it fits the Latin meaning.   
      I sit down at the empty table, savoring my toast and water. I’m just about finished when Adar walks in, about to remind me of my daily task.  
      “Hello, Tom, how are you? How is your head?” He asks me, huge dark eyes burrowing into me. They are the opposite of my angels, his drew me in with his beauty, Adar’s…. Adar’s scares me for some reason.  
      “Hi Adar, I’m great, thanks for asking! My head feels fine!” I lie for the first time, I don’t know why. To cover it I up I turn my head away, “looking” for where to put my cup. I place it into the cleaner bin and face the tall being. “Will you please tell me what my assignment today is?” I ask.  
      “Your assignment is simply to take care of your hygiene and then you may have your Leisure Time.” His message enters my brain, and I smile. Easy day, awesome! I thank him and go upstairs to my little white room. I use the changing room to change out of my pajamas and into my Shower Suit. It’s a full length white, skin-tight body suit to help me absorb nutrients in the shower. I always brush my teeth before going in, and I do so, making sure to floss too. My tangled hair is smoothed by my white comb and again I look at myself in the mirror. I think of my angel, his blurred face, his black hair that almost defied gravity in a comical way, his beautiful black eyes.  
      _Who are you?_  I sigh and give myself a half smile. I should stop dwelling on him, but I can’t help but feel attached. Maybe because he was… he looked like me? I don’t know exactly what or who I am, but I know I’m not like the tall pale ones that surround me. I straighten my Shower Suit, messing with the zipper in the back that’s digging into my neck, and step into the quite large box-shaped tub. I don’t know why it’s so big, about four feet by four feet and two feet deep, but that’s the way things are. I guess there are a lot of things I don’t know yet.  
       I type in my preference of scented nutrient water into the very small wall computer and wait for it to warm up. The way it works is the water is mixed with soap and the nutrients I need for a healthy body, but I need the suit in order for me to absorb properly. Otherwise it’s just a mess, I’m sure. I turn and step toward the far corner of the bath, grabbing the shampoo and conditioner for my hair, and I feel the hot water hit my back. I let it soak my back before turning around letting it spread across my torso. I sit here for a few minutes, thinking of dark eyes and open fields. I immerse my face into the falling water, getting my hair wet. I tilt my head back, pushing my dripping hair out of the face and let the water softly hit my face, reminding me of rain.  
      Of…. Rain….  
      My eyes widen, my head feels like it’s about to shatter into a thousand pieces, and I lower my head. I slowly reach behind me to the zipper on my back and take off my Shower Suit, and I see why everything I wear has long sleeves. I see why I need a machine to change, I see why I need a suit.  
      Dark marks are engraved into my left arm, tattoos, and my mouth gapes open. The drops of water are trickling into my mouth as I stare at the permanent engravings. I look back upward, depending on the shower to break through the rest of the wall in my mind and chest. I feel some sort of mental surge forward, and the memories come flooding back. I realize why I am so different, I am not one of them, I do not belong here. They took my life, they took it all. The face of my angel clears, his eyes turning back into that startling blue. I remember my band, my friends, my family, everything. I remember playing to crowds of thousands. I remember holidays. I remember childhood pets. I remember a night of dumping rain with my best friend, a night that was supposed to be a beginning, but was instead an ending.   
      I remember who I was, who I am.

      And I have never been so pissed in my entire fucking life.


	10. Bleeding Fingers (Tom's P.O.V)

   I grab fistfuls of my hair and grit my teeth, pulling as hard as I can take. A large part of me wants to give in and destroy everything in my sight, to kill the monsters who took me. But my instinct tells me that they cannot know about my remembering, the consequences are severe, so I take my anger out on myself. My hands slide out of my hair and I rake my nails down my face, a light burning left in their tracks. I want to rip my stupid fucking suit to shreds, to rip the shower-head out of the wall, to crush the little computer with my fists, but his voice echoes through my head.  
      “ _You can NOT let them know you remember.”_  I can’t. Can’t let them know. Not now. Instead I stand in the shower, about to crack my teeth from frustration.  _WHY? Why me? Why the FUCK was it me?_  It’s not until the computer flashes orange telling me that the nutrients have been fully dispersed and that I may get out now, that I put my suit back on. As I step into it I notice that I have broken a very small, almost invisible seal, a few inches below the zipper.  
       _Shit shit shit shit, fuck! No! Oh God. Maybe they won’t notice? Maybe I can put it back?_  I make a sad attempt to fix it, but the small plastic flap just dangles. The most I can hope for is the aliens not noticing. I slowly zip my suit back up, feeling very confused. They knew I would remember, it was all part of the plan, all part of their sick, horrible plan. I am so disappointed in myself, how could I not see it? They knew it would fucking happen! I step out of the large tub and nearly yell when automatic driers start drying off my body. Holy shit, I don’t have to do  _anything_ for myself here. When I am completely dry, I drag myself to the mirror. I don’t see the smiling dork I saw before, thinking of an angel from a dream. I see somebody completely different, distraught eyes and a slack face, broad shoulders slumped with the weight of the world’s greatest sadness. I raise my hands and look downward at them, as if they will tell me what I should do. Hands that once held a first CD, fingers that once bled from too much guitar, arms that once helped a friend home after a rough night.  
      I look out of the bathroom and into my room, where I walk. I walk over to my bedside table, remembering the night before when quantum physics was the only thing on my mind. I look up and around, at the colorless walls, the colorless everything. I sit on the edge of the bed, how long have I been here? A day? A week? It can’t have been that long, I remember saying something about it being January in Questioning. I put my head in my hands, hoping that I’ll wake up. Hoping that I just passed out from nervousness that one night and am in some coma, in a dream. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned about dreams, it’s that once you realize you’re dreaming, you wake up.  
      I play that night over and over in my head. My heart feels like it’s slowly being torn from my chest, twisting and pulling. My lips form a frown, and my eyes sting, but I feel that lunch is coming soon and I can’t leave with red eyes. So I sit in my empty body, telling myself if I had just gone inside with him, things would be different. If I fought harder, I would be with him. If we had stayed inside, away from the rain, we would be together, we would be happy.  
       _How do you know that?  
      _I can’t deny the fact that the man I… That I want to be happy with may or may not want to be happy in the same way with me. He might want to be happy with someone else, probably a girl.  
       _"Be happy"? Really? Why are you so fucking scared to say it? SAY IT!  
_       The room is dead silent, and I feel like someone is watching me. I  _know_ someone is watching me. I slowly raise my head from my hands, and look toward the door. I nearly shit myself when I see the monster named Adar staring at me from the doorway. Not saying anything, not holding anything, just staring. Examining me, reading my body language, which might as well have “I REMEMBERED” written on it. My fallen shoulders, my head in my hands, my terrified and sad expression. But he says nothing, just stares at me for a few more seconds, and walking away, looking over his shoulder once.  
       _Oh, oh shit.  
      _I don’t know what to do. I could change out of my suit, but fuck, they know. They KNOW. I sit on my bed, rocking slightly back and forth, breathing harder and harder. It’s only about a minute until they come back into my room.  _They._  There’s four. And one’s carrying-  
       _Oh, SHIT NO._ Another black syringe, filled with who knows what. I can feel a horrified expression take over my face, and I scramble backward onto the bed.  
      “You should have kept your suit on, Tom.” I can tell by her voice that it’s Samir.  
      I start shaking my head, “No, you, you put me up to this! You made me do this on purpose! WHY? WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME?” I raise my voice, the plastic flap must have been some sort of switch.  
      “You are an experiment, by far our best. Now, relax. This will only hurt for a second.” She walks toward me, and I leap off the bed. I run to the door, ducking under the arms of vile creatures as I pass beneath the threshold, and I almost slow down from shock when I realize I escaped. I run down the hallway, down the steps, through the kitchen, and I hear their steps behind me, closing in quickly. I must have more muscle in my legs, I guess having long legs isn’t all that great, and I speed up, feeling hopeful. I keep running, past the Questioning room and into parts I’ve never seen before. Nothing stands out, it’s all white here. Instinct tells me turn left, and I do, into a long hallway with no doors or places to hide.   
       _You’ve got to be fucking kidding me! What- Where the fuck do I go now?_  I hear them turning the corner, and I see a door at the end of the hallway, I’m almost there. Their footsteps closing in, probably close enough to lunge and grab me, but they want to see how far I go. I’m so close to the door, but the only way you can get through in by hand-print recognition. I feel my heart sink, but I manage to read the Latin on the door before shoving my hand into the recognition screen.  
       _Imperium._  
      I know enough Latin for that one.  
      My hand does no good, and I’m going too fast to stop, and I end up slamming my body into the door. Their cold hands grab onto my shoulders, lifting my body up and slamming it again against the wall, hurting my back even more. They use my suit to hold me up to it, like a middle school bully.  
      “You can’t do this! THIS ISN’T RIGHT!” I flail my arms and legs uselessly, and I try grabbing its hand to tear in off my suit, but his hands are like steel.  
      I practically hear it sigh, “There is no point in struggling.”  
      I see Samir tap the syringe, taking me back to that rainy night for a flash, and find a vein in my neck. I try to move my head around, to make it difficult, but she just grabs a chunk of my hair and uses it to crack my head against the white door. The pain causes my vision to cloud, and I feel consciousness fading. I feel the intense, focused agony of the needle ripping through my neck, the poison coursing through my veins, the burn setting my heart aflame. My head lolls, rocking from side to side, senses disappearing. The pale aliens blur in with their white background, until they’re just large floating eyes, orbs of intelligence.  
       _I don’t want to forget again, no, not again._  
      The blacks orbs spread, my vision becoming a black expanse, and I fall into it.


	11. Like Torture (Mark's P.O.V)

       _"Tom? Is that you? What are you doing out here?" I yell at the tall dark figure standing in front of me. I step next to him, watching him look at the stars. He looks happy, a faint smile on his face, the moon casting a gentle light on his features. We’re in an open field, grass going on forever, the sky stretching to infinity.  
_       “ _I just wanted to look at the stars_ ,  _I’m daydreaming. What are YOU doing out here, Mark? Did you come to daydream with me?” His smile spreads, like he’s in on a great inside joke. “Daydreaming can be like torture, did you know?” He looks down on me, only slightly taller than I. His big brown eyes meet mine, and they shine in the moonlight. I love his eyes, they’re so warm, I could just drown myself in them, they make my chest swell whenever he looks at me that way. Like he’s never seen anyone like me before, like I’m some gift, although it’s probably all in my head. He turns his body toward me, laughing softly, “Well, why are you here?”  
      “… Because- because I miss you. I wanted to see you.” I’m not really controlling what’s coming out of my mouth, but it seems like the right thing to say.  
      He smiles even bigger, like I’ve said exactly what he wanted to hear. “Well, here I am, life’s waiting to begin!” I smile back at him, but I’m not sure what to do next. He senses my uncertainty, and he walks toward the moon, and I follow.   
      “Mark, I kind of need you to do something, is that okay?” He sticks his hands in his pockets and walks right beside me, watching my every move with that look I love.   
      “Sure man, anything.” I stick my hands in my pockets, staring at my feet, afraid that if I look at him I’ll trip.  
      “I need you to stay strong. Things are going to suck for a really long time, but you have to promise me that you won’t hurt yourself or anything. I know…. I know that- that you need me, and I need you but-but you have to remember that-” He pauses, gathering his thoughts. “You just need to stay strong, keep your head up, stay alive, just for me.” I knit my eyebrows together.  
      “But you’re the one who left me.”  
      “I didn’t want to. I wish I could have stayed.”  
      “Then why didn’t you?”  
      “Look, Mark,” He walks in front of me, stopping me, putting his hands on my shoulders and replacing his happiness with desperation. “It’s time for me to go back now. Stay strong, have faith, don’t- don’t do anything stupid.” His face softens_ ,  _but what the hell is he talking about? He pulls me in for a hug, mashing my nose and lips against his neck_ , _and I wrap my arms around him.  
      “Why?” I angle my head a little downward, so I can speak without making him feel weird. “Why are you going? Why are you leaving me?” I squeeze tightly, like a child to their mother.  
      “I’m not leaving you, I’m just- I just won’t be here. It’s the same as when your friend goes on vacation.” I feel the vibration of his voice through his chest against mine and my ear_. _  
      “That’s not the same thing. ” I roll my eyes.  
      “Yes, it is.” I can tell from his voice that he’s smiling, and it occurs to me that we’ve been hugging for a while, but I really don’t mind. It’s comforting. “I have to go back, Mark.”  
      “Back where?” I close my eyes and hold on tighter.  
      “A galaxy, far far away…” I laugh shortly, rolling my eyes again.  
      “Just tell me where you’re going.”  
      He just gives me one last squeeze and pulls away, hands on my shoulders again. “Hey, don’t give me that look, be happy! This is harder for me, I guarantee.” I just sigh and give a half-hearted glare to the beautiful brown eyes._    
       _He smirks and says, “I would come back soon just like you would,” I open my mouth, ready to object, but he interrupts, “It’s useless. There’s nothing you can do, my name has made the list.” He gives my shoulders a squeeze and lowers his arms, smiling at me like a total dork._  
       _"You know where to find me." Something I’ve said so many times._  
 _“That I do. Bye, Mark.” The smile fades into a somber expression, and he turns and walks away._

      The first thing I realize is that I’ve drooled all over everything, my wet mouth pressed into the damp couch, soaking my cheek. I raise my head and wipe my face aggressively, thoroughly disgusted. I think about my dream, causing my heart to break all over again when I remember that he’s  _really_  gone. My tears are all used up though, so I just bathe in the painful greyness in my head. I sit on the edge of the couch, dissecting my dream, but my brain is too drained and exhausted after an hour. I get up and walk to my bathroom and take a piss, and I remember this thing called hygiene. I brush my teeth, floss, but as soon as I get a look at my unwashed tangled hair, I quit. I walk into my kitchen, shoes making loud slapping sounds as they hit the tile.  
      I simply sigh when I see the eight cases of Esculentus, too worn out to burst into tears or rip my kitchen apart. I haven’t eaten or drank anything in two days, and my joints are starting to hurt. I grab a cup from the cupboard and fill it with water, and end up gulping down three glasses, until I hear the water sloshing around inside me. I pick up the pans on my stove and scrape off all the enchiladas I had spent hours working on. Had he stayed, they would have been all gone by now. If he stayed, I would be waking up from a night of shitty movies and gross drinks, not from crying myself to sleep on the couch like a child. Had he stayed, we would be laughing at the mess in my hallway and kitchen, making it even more messy trying to clean before giving up and calling a maid. My heart hurts with each and every “If he stayed…” thought, but I can’t help it. I wish I could turn back time and stop him, tackle him and wrestle with him until he changed his mind. Force some sort of hug or  _something_  upon him, just so I wouldn’t feel so lost. So I could say “ _I tried to make him stay_ " and know it was true, that I didn’t just stand there and watch him-…  
      When the lump forms in my throat at the last thought, I try to think of something else. I end up washing all of the dishes in existence, refusing to use the dishwasher, because some crazy part of me has come to believe it doesn’t  _really_ wash the dishes. It sits there and removes all trace of visible leftovers, making me eat off of dirty dishes, watching me with a sick smirk.  
        _Have I completely lost it? It’s a fucking dishwasher for fuck’s sake!  
      _ When I finish cleaning all the dishes, pans, and rewashing the one’s from the dishwasher, I hand dry each and every one of them. If I find one that has air dried, I rinse it again (to get the dust off) and dry it with a small towel. Fifteen towels and two and a half hours later, I am finished. I’ve probably killed three and a half hours, after taking my sweet-ass time. But nothing matters.  
      Not at all.  
      I don’t feel like cooking, so I grab the phone and call for pizza. My heart cracks again when I almost ask for half pineapple. I don’t eat pineapple,  _he_  did. I spend the half hour it takes to get here pacing my kitchen floor, playing different scenarios in my head, over and over, running my nails over my knuckles as I do so. The doorbell rings, and I get my pizza, almost forgetting to pay the very frightened pizza man. I pass him a fifty, not really paying attention. I get back into my kitchen and realize that he probably saw the scratches on my arms, my red knuckles, and messy hair. I probably look like some mad man who just murdered a defenseless victim. I shrug, about to get a plate, but I realize I don’t want to dirty anything, so I’ll eat out of the box. As I walk into my living room, I begin to wonder what time it is. I check my cell phone, food nearly falling out of my open mouth when I see that it’s almost six. Holy shit. Although I don’t know when I fell asleep last night, I didn’t think it was early enough to sleep in so late. I just sigh, because it’s not like I would rather I pace my kitchen twelve hours a day.  
      I get up and put a Star Wars DVD into my DVD player, hoping to pass the time until my body is able to sleep again. As the movie starts, I hear the phone ringing violently, but I ignore it. Probably my manager or Travis or someone else I don’t want to talk to right now. I just want to sit on my couch, eat the entire box of pizza and watch Star Wars until I pass out. Which is exactly what I do.


	12. Empty Threats (Tom's P.O.V)

     The white walls I lay my eyes on when I wake confuses me, I feel like I’ve just woken up out of the blackest nightmare ever. I turn my head, looking up at the white ceiling above me, and I remember where I am and what happened. I wrench my body upward, to sit up and escape, but I’m held down by straps. There are tubes in my right arm, which is pinned down right next to me. I look around, the tubes just leading into the wall, the straps holding down each of my limbs, and then my body. I feel stubble on my face, and by the itchiness of it, I assume I’ve been here about a week.  
 _Been where? Locked up in some room strapped down like a fucking mental person?  
_       I rub my face against my shoulder, the only way I can get rid of the bugs that seem to crawl all over my face. I bite the inside of my lip, and instantly a very small part of me misses the little metal ring. But nothing hurts like the thorn-covered longing in my chest that my heart hits with each beat, to get home, to see him. My breath catches, but I’m not going to give the monsters the satisfaction of seeing me break down. I decide that I want some answers (but really I just want someone to take my anger out on) so I call out, hoping that yelling at the walls will bring me attention.  
      “HELLO? HELLOOOO? WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU MONSTERS? SHOULDN’T YOU BE CUTTING OFF MY LIMBS AND SHOVING THINGS UP MY ASS?” I thrash my head back and forth on the bed, which is slightly raised at the waist, like one in a hospital.  
      “HELLO? WHAT, I’M WORTHY FOR YOUR FUCKING EXPERIMENTS BUT NOT A FUCKING EXPLANATION? WHERE IS YOUR FUCKING MORALITY? FUCKING DEMONS, YOU’RE ALL FUCKING DEMONS. I HOPE YOU ALL DIE IN A FUCKING FREAK ACCIDENT, YOU LITTLE SHITS. HELL, KILL ME TOO. I HAVE NO REASON TO LIVE.” I stop yelling the words and just start screaming, banging my head over and over on the bed, my body writhing in a pathetic attempt to unleash myself.  
      “DID YOU HEAR ME? KILL ME. KILL ME IN THE CRUELEST WAY. I- I DON’T WANT TO LIVE. I don’t want to live…” I choke back a sob, my chin shaking violently, tears threatening to spill over. It’s hard enough thinking those thoughts, but even harder to speak them out loud, not knowing whether or not you’ll get what you’re asking for. I don’t think anyone’s coming, so I give myself ten seconds. Ten seconds to cry as quietly as I can, let my face melt with emotions. Ten seconds to let a few tears leak from my crinkled eyes, because I’ve lost everything. But once the ten seconds are up, I again rub my face on my shoulders, this time for tears, swallow the lump in my throat, and breathe deeply until I settle down.  
      “What’s the point of all of this? I know you’re there, I know you can hear me, and I know you’re listening. Can… Can you please either tell me what’s going on or take me- put me out of my misery? Please, I’m begging you. I-” There is a sliding noise, and a door to the far right of the room appears, sliding to the side to welcome a tall beast inside.  
      “Trust me, Tom Delonge, you are not even close to misery.” He walks over to me, looking down on me like a hunter to it’s kill. I pull against the straps, and I can’t decide if it’s from being too stingy to ask why they’re there and trying to imply, or from my wanting to break his neck. Either way, he ignores me.  
      “We are sorry that this had to happen. If you behave nicely, you will be rewarded, but if you try to break my neck, you…. Things won’t be so nice for you, do you understand?” He cocks his head slightly to the right, feigning care for what I have to say.  
      “I don’t fucking care about your empty threats, you fucking vile creature.” And, after years of practice, I spit on his feet. “Go fuck yourse-” But I don’t get through the sentence, because the thing has flung it’s fist at me, pain exploding all over my head. I cry out in pain, my jaw and cheekbone throbbing, I can feel it swelling and bruising, tears of pain welling up. He hit me so hard that my face hit the other side of the bed, making a slight thudding noise.   
      “You will  _not_  speak to me like that.” The attacker tries to tell me what to do. I try to respond with a “fuck you” or “go die in a hole, bitch” but I can’t work my pulsing jaw. It seems that whoever controls the liquid flow for my tubes has seen what is going on, because I start to lose consciousness.  
I only hear the ending of what he says to me next, “…and not all threats are empty.”  
      And then I black out.


	13. Internal Arguments (Mark's P.O.V)

      I sit up in bed, awakening from a nightmare I can’t seem to remember, I can only remember running down white hallways, absolutely terrified of whatever was chasing me, but determined to… to hide? To escape? To get somewhere? I don’t know. I sigh, my breath heading back to normal, the images fading. My dry palms are rough as I rub the sleep (or lack thereof) from my exhausted eyes. The warmth leaves my body when the blanket slides off of me as I step out of bed and I try to rub the goosebumps off my almost healed arms. I walk over to the mirror, signs of restlessness and distress pollute the man that is reflected. I sigh again, the dark colors of exhaustion pressing against my forehead, but it won’t be long until the gray numbness takes over. I’m just glad I get any color at all anymore. It’s been a week and two days since I decided I was done trying. Since my last shower, my real social interaction, anything. I haven’t answered the phone, I haven’t used my computer, I haven’t answered the door. I have just sat in front of my T.V. watching the same movies over and over, memorizing the words and mimicking the facial expressions, because I don’t have any words or emotions of my own. I decide today is going to be different, though, so I start up the bath and brush my hair (a painful process) as it fills. I would normally take a shower, but some part of me just doesn’t want to. I finally finish, my jet black hair falls in greasy strands all over my head, some of the grease from the gel I use, some of the grease from, well, lack of hygiene. I smell disgusting, I look disgusting, I feel disgusting, I am disgusting.  
      The bath has filled to my desired level, and I undress and step in to the steaming hot water, exhaling in relief when the water hits my knees. One of the perks of having a really nice house is deep, wide tubs, enough space for two comfortably. I lay down in my personal pool, letting the water scald the filth off my skin. I don’t bother with my hair or body yet, I just want to float, feel decently relaxed for the first time since- since the bad weather.  
       _Who knows, the weather could have been bad ever since, but you haven’t left the house since, have you? Fucking pussy, I bet HE already let go of you. Remember what he said? “Why can’t you ju-“_  
      STOP. STOP FUCKING STOP IT.  
      My mind has been at war with itself, part of me hating myself, part of me pitying myself. I don’t want to argue right now so I just submerge my head under the hot water, running my hands through my hair getting the left over gel out. I stay down until my lungs are burning and I let myself float up as slowly as possible. After resurfacing, I wash my hair three times, determined to get the grossness out, and I wash my body eight times. When the water goes cold about a half hour later, I get out, not even bothering with pants and going for a towel around the waist instead. I leave my bathroom and see that it’s four-fifty in the afternoon. I shrug, not caring one fucking bit. It’s not like I have a job anymore. I walk down my hallway, which I had vaccumed three days ago to rid it of broken glass and frames, and into my kitchen. I’m planning on having my usual day of Star Wars and pizza, but Travis’s daily phone call breaks what little focus I have. I debate letting it ring like I always do, but my earlier thought of letting today be different makes me pick up the phone.  
      “Hello, this is Mark Hoppus with Left For Dead Fashion and Design, how may I direct your call?” I don’t know where in the fuck that came from, but whatever. It’s not like I’ve spoken to anyone other than my T.V. in a week anyway.  
      “Oh, thank Go- wait, what the fuck? Mark? Are you okay?” I guess I took him off guard with my strange introduction, ”What the hell was that? Where have you been? How come you haven’t been answer-“  
      “Are we playing twenty questions, dude? I don’t know, I just don’t want to talk to anyone. What do you want?” Shit, okay, there’s no reason to be hostile to Travis, he’s my best friend, and the only one I have left. “Look, that was rude, I’m sorry.”  
      “Hey, it’s okay, I understand, I really do.” He doesn’t sound defensive, so I didn’t hurt his feelings thank god. But I don’t think he understands exactly what I’m feeling. “I really need to tell you about something, I’ve been trying to reach you since I was at your house last dude. Is it all right if I come over?” I really don’t want to deal with anyone right now, so I try my best to sound decently polite.  
      “Uh, well the house is a mess,” That’s a lie, the house is spotless, “and I haven’t showered in forever,” No, but I’ve bathed, “and I dunno man, I just don’t want to see anyone right now, can you just tell me over the phone?”  
      “Are you sure?” He sounds hesitant, but my patient is running out.  
      “Yes, I’m fucking sure! Tell me!”  
      “Fine. Tom started a new band. They’re called Angels And Airwaves, and apparently they’re going to be the biggest band in the fucking world. He started them the day after he called our manager and told him he was quitting. The next day he called our manager and practically  _rubbed_  it in his fucking face ‘We’re going to change the world’ type-a shit. There, happy?”  
      Am I happy? No.  
      But my heart doesn’t break, it doesn’t crack, it doesn’t skip a beat. Because nothing hurts the numb.  
      And nothing matters.  
      I don’t know if I should be sad, confused, or heartbroken. But I feel betrayed, alienated, and pissed. What I should be thinking is  _as long as he’s happy._  But instead I’m thinking  
       _He’s going to regret this. Biggest band in the world? He had that. And he let it go. He had everything._  
      Instead of oceans of sadness, I feel infinity of flames. I want to hurt him in the worst way I possibly can, I want to take his deepest fear and shove it into his eye sockets. He deserves it, he left me. After all we’d fucking been through, he fucking WALKS OUT, like I never mattered. Because he never cared about me. He just used our fame so he could start some band with a shit name. I want to throw my phone at the wall, break every window, break every bone. But instead I swallow my anger, and reply to my almost-as angry best friend with the only thing I can think of.  
      “Come over. We’re starting a fucking band.”


	14. Say Please (Tom's P.O.V.)

       _My head is resting in my arms while I lay on the dark green grass under the warm sun. I’m smiling, listening to my angel talk._  
     “What if we never met? Like, where do you think we would be right now?” Mark asks me. I roll on to my side, propping myself up on my elbow, but he remains staring at the deep blue sky.   
      “Well, I’d probably be in some other shitty band, living on the streets, or dead. Most likely dead, but who knows.” I reply to him, my eyes scoping the face I’ve already memorized. He turns his head, peircing blue meeting my eager eyes.  
      “Yeah, I’d probably be dead too.” He angles his body toward me, dressed in full black, making his eyes pop out even more.  
      “Really? I’d expect you to be a teacher or something.” I joke, and we both laugh.  
      “A teacher? Oh my god Tom,” I smile bigger when he says my name, “I don’t think I could ever be a teacher. Never ever, I’d be lost without you dude.” I drown in his smile, feeling so at home.  
      “You too,” Really? That’s the best I could come up with? I bite my lip hard, punishment for being such an idiot, but he doesn’t seem to care.  
      “SHIT! DUDE. STAY STILL.” His eyes widen, and I feel mine do the same.  
      “Wha-what oh my god what is it?!” I freeze, not breaking eye contact as he reaches toward my shoulder. I feel a slight slap as Mark quickly brushes off the white thing on me and onto the grass.  
      “Whoa, creepy ass spider.” He says. It’s pure white, eyes, legs, everything. It disrupts the deep color around me, and thankfully it quickly runs away. I just lay there with a horrified look on my face as he laughs. “Dude, the look on your face right now..” he again dissolves into laughter.  
      “Shut the fuck up, oh my god!” But his adorable smile is contagious, and I crack up. “Whatever dude, you looked pretty terrified too.”  
      “Suuure, okay.” He recovers himself and runs a hand through his already perfect hair.  
      “Tom… I miss you.” He looks at me, eyes filled with pain not too unlike that of knowing your life is temporary. Feeling hopeful and feeling insignificant, bittersweet.  
      “I… I’m right here though!” I smile and rise into a sitting position right next to my favorite person.  
      “I still miss you.” I can tell he is so unsure of what he’s saying, he’s just letting his thoughts fall out of his mouth, not bothering to filter. “Whenever you’re gone, I get all anxious, like I can’t take a step without knowing you’ll be at the end of the road. I always feel so… vulnerable, you know? It’s like, I don’t care what happens, as long as my best friend is with me.” He looks down, biting his lip and yanking on grass.  
      I smile so wide, he really is the most wonderful thing to have ever happened to me.  
      “Hey, I feel the same way dude. It just means we’re like… the best of best friends.” I say, and opposite of him I am vigorously filtering my thoughts. I want to tell him, but I know this isn’t the right time.  
      He smiles at me, reassured. He sits up and pulls himself into a standing position. He reaches his hand down, to pull me up, but I’m not going to let that happen. I instead grab his hand and yank down as hard as I can, causing him to yell and fall directly on me. My head hits the ground hard, squashed between the warm grass and his torso. It hurts, but I’m laughing hysterically. Our legs are tangled, and he knees me very close to a certain sensitive spot “on accident” in an attempt to get up. I just laugh harder, my mouth rubbing into his t-shirt as my body shakes. I hear him laughing too, and he manages to prop himself above me with his elbows, and he moves himself so we’re face to face. I stop laughing, but continue smiling.  
      “Well, you’ve certainly gained some weight,” I tease.  
      He laughs, his eyes closing as he does so. This moment is so perfect, I wish I could stop time and live in this day forever. I never want to leave this place, this is home. He opens his eyes, and I feel the happiness fill me, I feel like I’m going to explode, shatter into a thousand pieces. But it would be okay, the blue eyes may make me fly but they also keep me grounded when I feel like everything is falling apart.  
      I look at him, our smiles fading as we try to figure out what’s going on. Normally this would have been much too long for us to be staring into each other, but it’s different this time.  
      “I-” He starts, but a crack of lightning interrupts him, the rain that falls instantly soaking him, but we don’t move. His body sheilds me from the rain, but a few drops make it on to my face.  
      He smiles at me, “Well, that sucks.”  
      I smile too, “What were you going to say?”  
      He hesitates, his smile almost faltering, but he opens his mouth to tell me anyway. “Tom, I-“

I open my eyes, my breathing is fast, and my mind is racing. I throw my head back in anger when I realize it was all just a dream. I tear my arms upward against the restraints, only to feel that they’re not there. I look at my hands, and instantly pat my face, almost expecting to feel drops of rain. Instead I feel a clean shaven face, and cringe at the thought of how it got that way. I press a little harder, wincing when I feel a large fading bruise on my jaw and cheek. I don’t know how long it’s been, and I’m just about to call out when the door appears, sliding to the side to let in the tall being. He has something rolled up that he’s holding behind himself, but I don’t pay too much attention to it.  
      “Well, have you come to beat the shit out of me again?” I spit out, my mouth filling with venom at the very sight of him.  
      “You got what you deserved.” His water-smooth voice peircing my brain.  
      “Are you going to tell me that I deserved to be fucking abducted or kidnapped or whatever the fuck it is, too?” My mouth closes into a tight frown and my eyebrows knit. I would tackle him, strangle him and watch the life leave his eyes, but my arms are the only thing that aren’t strapped down, and he’s keeping a reasonable distance away.  
      “That is classified information. Now, I will give you what you need if you only say ‘please’.”  
      I am fucking appalled, really? Like I’m going to say  _please_  to this fucking bastard.  
      “Fuck no!” I say, surprised he would expect such a thing from me.  
      ”Perhaps you are not aware of your current state, Mr. Delonge. You are quite… Hungry looking, do you not think so?” He asks me smugly, and I take a moment to look down at myself. My body has obviously lost several pounds. While I still have a little muscle, there is no fat on my body. I have not eaten in a very long time. The cords that I realize are still hooked into my arm must be the only thing keeping me alive. I touch my face, skin stretching across my cheekbones, and my mouth opens slightly in shock.  
      “Maybe you would like some food? _  
“_ The  _hell_  I want your fucking food. What, does it have arsenic in it? Just enough to make me sick but not enough to kill me, like the monsters you are?”  
      He’s over to me in a second and he grabs my face, his ice claws digging deep into my flesh. I try to twist my head, but he has a grip of steel.  
      “How DARE you speak to me like that?” His voice yells in my thoughts, “You are lucky you are still alive. Trust me, if we wanted you sick, you would already _be_ sick _._ If we wanted to hurt you, we would not hesitate. _”  
      _"Well, then." I choke out, unable to move my jaw, "Why don’t you just kill me? I’m of no use, I am just a pain in the ass, obviously."  
      He grips my jaw harder, and I feel like it’s going to crack in half. _  
“Say please.”_  At first I refuse, but the pressure he is applying increases with each passing second, and I give in, crying out in pain.  
      “ _PLEASE_!” I practically gasp in relief when he releases my jaw, and I’m attempting to rub the pain away when he turns away in disgust.  
      “I will go get your food, then.” And he steps out. As he walks out I see that he has yet to do anything with the rolled up booklet thing, and I plan on asking him when he comes back. Well, I  _did_  until I saw the plate of food he brings to me, and my stomach and mind growls at the sight. It’s not too much food, just a very large bowl of assorted sliced fruit and a large glass of water. He gently sets in on my lap, and I instantly start eating.  
      “You see, Tom, if you behave and act nicely, you shall be rewarded. But do not mistake our kindness for hesitance to resort to punishment.” He goes silent, watching me eat. Normally this would make me feel uncomfortable, but my hunger is overpowering any feelings at the moment. The flavor is gushing through my mouth, sending my taste buds into a frantic parade. I have to keep myself from sighing in happiness, it has been far too long. I practically inhale the water, my body instantly feeling better. When I finish, I feel exhausted.  
      “Why… Why am I so tired?” I’m not to the point of heavy eyes yet, but I wouldn’t mind taking a nice long nap  
      “Because we all agree it would be best to keep you sedated, for the time being. It is only temporary.” I figure they are putting fluids in my veins again.  
      “I must be going now… Here, read this.” He unrolls the thing, which I see is a magazine, and places it face down on my bed.  
      “It will help you sleep.” The tone of his voice tells me that it will do the exact opposite. He walk out of the room quickly, the door closing behind him. I look downward, guessing by the advertisement for guitars that it’s a music magazine. My eyebrows pull in.  
      I flip it over, reading the headline, and immediately wish I hadn’t.

       _World Renowned Band Blink-182 Annouces Break Up!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of part 1.


	15. No, It Isn't (Mark's P.O.V)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2.

_I smile, rolling over and facing my best friend, who is laying on the grass beside me.  
_        _"Do you ever wonder what life would be like if we hadn’t met?" I ask, my head resting in my bent elbow. He turns toward me, a relaxed smile on his face.  
      “It would fucking suck, I would probably be dead. You saved my life Mark, you know that.” He smiles bigger, and pulls himself up, standing.  
      “Do you want to go for a walk with me?” He asks, and I nod, using his arm to help myself up. It’s warm, and some part of me wants to keep holding on, but I let go. We walk away from the trees we were lying under and walk into the expanse of sun-kissed grass.  
      He looks over at me and smiles, “You know, if you want to hold my hand, you can.” I almost stop walking, my mouth dropping open._ _  
“Uh, what? What are you talking about?”  
      “What? Nothing,” He smiles even bigger at me, biting his lip ring. We walk in silence for a while, and I make sure to keep my hands in my pockets.  
      “Tom,” I say after a while, “I’m sorry.”  
      “Sorry for what? You’ve done nothing wrong Mark. I’m very… proud of how you’ve handled everything that’s happened, Mark.” He walks closer to me, our arms brushing slightly.  
      “No, I… I am sorry for everything I’ve done. I’m sorry for all the stupid fights, and getting angry with you all the time for stupid things, I’m sorry for- for letting you fucking walk aw-“  
      “Mark. Please. It’s not your fault.”  
      “It’s getting harder, each day it hurts more and more, and I think it’s been building up for far too long.” I choke.  
      “This is not the place or time for us to talk about this, Mark. Dry your eyes, let’s go down to the water.” I didn’t realize I was crying, I quickly pat my eyes, recovering. I don’t know what he means by “the water” and I’m slightly confused until I see that the grass ends, something I don’t remember being there before. It’s a cliff, and I can hear the water break on the rocks below. It’s quite loud, seeing as the cliff is a good distance away. I sniff, because I miss Tom so much, even though he’s right here next to me. I am dreading the moment he leaves.  
      “Hey, it’s okay,” He smiles that perfect smile once again, “I’m right here, always will be.” He reaches between the small space between us and grabs my hand. My eyebrows pull together, confused, and he just gives me a small smile. I shake my head.  
      “Always? But, you-you left? You-” My emotions are melting again, “You can’t say you’ll always be here when-when you left me. You-That’s not right. It’s no-not right.” I breath deep, eyes and face burning. I don’t want to cry, I’m supposed to be strong.  
      “I told you, it’s like going on vacation.” He replies, not looking at me. He’s acting much different now.  
      “No, it isn’t.” I reply, and he stays silent. I’m still holding on to his hand as we finally arrive at the cliff.  
      “Ever gone cliff diving?” He asks me, looking out at the water, the bright sun reflecting off the dark waves.  
      “No, why the hell would I want to do that?! I would die oh my god.” I laugh, it’s a dumb question. Tom knows that if I were to do something like that, he would be there with me.  
     “Well, if you aim right, you land safely, but you really need to aim right.” He lets go of my hand, looking at me intently with his beautiful brown eyes. He smiles, eyes growing dark, and I notice something.  
      “Tom! There’s a fucking spider on you! SHIT! DUDE! STAY STILL!” It’s pitch black, sitting on his shoulder. He smiles wider.  
      “No there isn’t, Mark.” It’s crawling on his face, but I’m too horrified to do anything about it._ __  
“Dude… It’s on your FUCKING FACE.” I reach forward to slap it off, but he instead grabs my wrist. The black pupils of his eyes spread, taking over the brown, then the whites, until both of his eyes are entirely black. I stumble backward, wrenching my wrist out of his hands.  
      “D-dude-what-what the fuck is going on?! What’s- What the fuck is happening?!” I walk further back, a very big mistake. The breath leaves my body when my foot doesn’t make contact with earth, and I’m falling. My arms wave frantically, and everything is in slow motion.  
      My other foot slips off the cliff.  
      “TOM!” I cry, desperate for him to save me. But he hasn’t moved, he’s still smiling with pitch black eyes. I’m still falling, slowly, but falling. My face is now level with the edge of the cliff, my eyes burning into his, asking questions time won’t allow me to ask. Why isn’t he coming after me? He just stands there, and to my extreme horror, there is another black spider on him. Several are crawling up his spine and on his face, leaving me with nothing to see but a smug smile. That is, until he turns his back to me, letting me slip away.   
      I fall lower and lower in silence, unable to catch a breath to scream, unable to fight gravity. My back hits water, but it feels like ice cold concrete. I sink beneath the surface, and my mind scrambles to find out what’s going on, what I should do. I claw toward the surface, but I descend further and further. The sun shines through the deep blue, making my personal shipwreck eerily beautiful.  
      A fine place to die.  
      I make one last feeble attempt to swim, but there isn’t enough oxygen in my lungs to bring me upward, not enough strength in my body to even move. I part my lips, letting the few bubbles of air I have saved leave me for good. I’m still sinking, sunlight fading out with each foot I drop. My lungs and brain are burning, and I know now that nothing can save me. I open my my mouth a little more, hesitant at first, but I decide it’s better than the alternative. I breath in, water gushing into me, and I feel like I’m being ripped apart. I kick my legs, my body twitching violently in the blue vastness, my eyes as wide as possible. The pain lasts for around five seconds, five horribly long seconds, but then my body stops jerking, and I’m like stone, plummeting, but slowly. And then I don’t feel pain anymore, I feel great. This is it. I am getting what I deserve. I am finally at peace, calm. I’m okay with this, I’m okay with dying. A smile plays at my lips, and my body goes limp.

       I wake up, gasping for air, instantly sitting upright in bed, gulping in the precious oxygen.  
       _Fuck._ I’ve never had a nightmare like that before, I lean back in my bed, still alive. The clock on my bedside table reads 10:30 A.M. which is odd, usually I wake past noon, but I don’t mind. I reach into the drawer, getting my notebook and dull pencil, and try to write down as much as I can. I remember most of the dream, starting where I ask him what life would be like. I’m not trying to write down the dream though, I’m looking for songs. I told Travis I would try my hardest to write for our new band, but since the break up one month and three days ago, I’ve been crippled with anxiety. We told the magazine guys that published the “official announcement” three days ago that we had great things in store, but I can’t write to save my life. I do manage to scribble down a few things though, adding in my own. Not all of them are exact quotes though, that would be too painful, and it wouldn’t make any sense.  
 _“Cliff diving.”  
       “This is getting harder, this has been building up for far too long.”  
      “This is not the time or place for us to speak like this, and even if I’d had the thought I’d never dream of it, so dry your crying eyes and let’s walk down to the water.”  
      “Let me slip away, I’m barely holding on.” _I pause, thinking for a bit before continuing.  
       _"I never meant to say I’m sorry, and I’m not sad to see you’re leaving."  
      “Every now and then I forget the end of us.”  
      “My mind keeps racing, never softly dreaming, I’m scraped and screaming but there’s no one listening.”  
      “And I’ve taken my revenge, maybe one day I’ll feel better” _And then I really feel inspiration hit me. His famous last words being the power source of what spills onto paper. _  
“This isn’t just goodbye, this is I can’t stand you,  
      This is where you throw me into the ocean, and it rises all around me,   
      And I’m left barely breathing, I’m blending into the thousands you choose to  
      ignore,  
      Curse my enemies forever, let’s breath in deep and drown with our something   
      beautiful,”_   
      I sigh, unable to really think of anything else, but proud of what I have. It’ll need a few tweaks, obviously, but I think I know where this song is going. I partially smile, I don’t feel as hopeless anymore. Maybe I  _can_  get sweet fucking revenge on-  
       _No, this is about the music. Not about money or revenge or HIM at all. Just music. Like it always has been.  
_       I bite the inside of my lip, I want to call Travis, but I fear it’s too early. I shake my head, this is fucking worth it. We finally have something to  _do_ , get our minds off of everything. It’ll be just the th-  
      Two of us.  
      I unplug my charging cell and dial his number, heart beating slightly faster, somewhat excited for the first time in what seems like forever.


End file.
